Reserve
by casuallllfollower
Summary: Draco is high-priced, and Harry Potter is someone just out of reach. Slash and smut warning. AU.


_A/N: If this seems rushed or what have you, it's because this was a bit out of my comfort zone, but the rating was definitely needed. I hope you enjoy it regardless because the idea would not leave my head. _

Draco slipped his shirt buttons back through their holes with a slight disarray at the events that had happened before them. His work always did leave him fuzzy, especially if the encounter was good. The cricket players were _always_ his favorite, and they always had been, considering their firm bodies and stomachs and everything below that. However, he was the worker, not them, so no distraction would sway him from taking his money and departing from the room.

The most previous gent even tipped, tucking the spare bills into Draco's waistband which he had to remove to walk out into public. His hair was swept back and looked just as it did when he'd walked into the man's hotel room, though his throat hurt a bit from having to be so bloody quiet.

He hated quiet calls, but his boss did charge more for them, so the extra money never hurt.

Hailing a cab, Draco pulled on his coat, the nice one his mother had gotten him last Christmas, and directed the cabbie towards his own place of employment. The client had been very specific that he dress nice, and lucky for him, his service only ever did just that. Walking in and out of their office, one would, and many did, assume that they ran an actual, respectable, company behind their walls.

Furthest from the truth, Draco yanked the doors open and winked to the woman at the desk.

"Worked through lunch again, Draco?" She asked with a grin, taking the completed call cards from his pale hands and placing them in her pile of finished assignments, handing him another.

"Why not? You don't stay this skinny eating three meals a day," he teased, knowing full well they _both_ ate more than four.

"That one's good, I think you'll be challenged, even," she told him smirking, "I was told to save it just for you."

"I told you," Draco muttered lowly, though no one really cared to hear what he had to say, "I will care only if the name on that card is Harry Potter, world class football player, anyone else I'll do my job like I always do."

They each had one famous person in who they all wanted to be with, and were even allowed to "reserve" for if the person did call, which hadn't happened yet. It wasn't to say famous people never called their number, but for the men and women who worked for Kerrinton Co., it never seemed to be the ones they wanted. Harry Potter had been on Draco's list before he'd picked up the call-boy occupation. To men and women alike, he'd offered his exclusive repertoire, but he'd give anything to be under the famous football player. He'd had a fancy for him since the man was a rookie.

"Well, wrong gender, but you do get to happily serve that pretty girlfriend of his."

"Ex-girlfriend," Draco corrected in a snap, "Don't you carry on with the news?"

"Not while I'm still breathing," the receptionist seemed offended, "Don't you know me?"

"Not at all, Maria, but I told you, I only work with women if no one else will take them," he told her, annoyed that she'd forgotten his preference.

They chose their reserve, and they chose their main preference, and that was about as much freedom as the workers possessed at Kerrinton. Draco didn't mind, especially the way he was paid, but he hadn't worked with a female client in at least couple months when they were short on hires, and his choices were go or become one of the reasons the unemployment rate was so high.

"I tried to handle that for you, sweetie, but it came through the boss, like I said. He told me I was to tell you that you take it, or else if you were stubborn."

Draco looked at the card that had Harry Potter's ex-girlfriend's name scrawled right on it, and he cringed. Why would his boss put him through this, what was the point? Was it because he thought being this close to Harry Potter would sate his reserve? Well, it wouldn't.

"I think I'm gonna reject this one," he handed the card back, jokingly. He knew as well as everyone that worked there he couldn't reject a client. The numbers on the bottom were high too, and he'd be a fool not to accept that kind of money.

"You tell the boss that, Draco," Maria snorted, "I'd like to see someone try."

Rolling his eyes, Draco took the card and went to his 'office.'

Each worker possessed what Draco was more fond of calling a dressing room. They had a vanity, a small bathroom, and even a bed for those who stayed there at night. None of the clients ever came to their offices, but the more bold and common few who did this sort of thing every week went to the main desk which Maria manned to schedule their appointments.

With a sigh, and dread at having to do his work for the first time in a while, Draco left for his destination, his briefcase filled with a few odds and ends. After this, though, was the end of his day, so at least the boss had had a _small_ bit of pity on him.

Draco looked at the address and even admonished it close enough to take his car, that way home would be only that much closer.

He tried to get the nervousness out on his drive there, shaking his hands at stoplights and turning his music up to an obnoxious level for someone who looked like he was going for tea with the queen. This was his job, a woman shouldn't be putting him in such a disoriented mood.

When he'd arrived at the hotel, Draco stepped out and ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it, and also boosting his confidence when a rather obvious bloke smirked happily. Working days was such a juxtaposed shift compared to those who worked during the night, broad daylight almost making the act less real, like movie lights shone on the activity. Draco, however, had always felt like everything was real, and the night made it fake because vision was limited and optional.

Passing the look to the handsome man back, Draco straightened his coat jacket and went through the hotel, the soft carpet below and rambunctious surroundings settling his stomach. It was just another client, was all, nothing to be afraid of. The day he admitted he was afraid of female clients was the day he was out of a job. The boss insisted they work both genders, and that was what he'd continue to do.

Draco knocked on the door as the thought that this was Harry Potter's ex-girlfriend came back to mind. He'd have to bite his tongue to keep from asking what the bloke was like in bed.

The doors finally swung open, and Draco looked up from his watch.

He _had_ been checking to make sure the time was right, but every thought he could have had was gone from mind when he saw the person behind the white doors of room number twelve-hundred-and-seven.

Harry bloody Potter stood there, and by the Queen, he must have just been leaving, right? Came to visit his ex or something, and she just happened to have horribly bad timing? That's what it was, because there was no way Harry Potter stood before him, laughing nervously.

"I know I called under Hermione's name, but you're here for me," the man whispered, looking precariously behind them towards the empty hall of the twelfth floor. He didn't _sound_ nervous.

"Right," Draco schooled his features, but his heart was racing about a million miles ahead of him.

So his boss just decided to kill him with anticipation and nerves instead of just telling him his reserve had called into Kerrinton? Oh, he'd kill him when he got back and happily take the sentence that came with it when he was done here. There was no way Draco was leaving this hotel room, however, without thoroughly screwing Harry Potter into every surface in the place.

Draco would have happily commented on the wonderfully bright walls before him, adorned with gold frames of paintings and silver accents. He could have talked about the furniture, its dark-tan surfaces and their comfort level, but the expansive plain of tan skin that Harry Potter had was much more interesting.

"I thought you dated women," Draco blurted out, not really caring questions like this could get him fired right on the spot. He stood unmoving, and word-vomit seemed to be his only way to cope with what was happening. However, there were things clients were allowed rights to, and Draco had already broken the privacy and discretionary files under those rights, but he could not bring himself to care.

Wait until he told Maria.

"I don't," he laughed, luckily enough for Draco, and went over to where a nice array of drinks awaited his ready hand, "But I can't tell anyone this is my preference. The world isn't ready for Harry Potter to be gay, and Hermione was really sweet about it when she agreed to date me for a while to disprove the momentary theories."

Draco already knew too much about him, even if it was barely the surface of this great and fit player before him. Oh, how he wanted to know everything about this man, but their time was already falling away so quickly, he just wanted to bed him.

"I thought she left because she loved your teammate, Ron?" Draco found himself asking anyways, taking the proffered drink with no hesitancy. For this encounter, he'd definitely need it, even if he was sworn never to drink on the job.

"She does, which is how I met her, and they were both good about it. Ron's idea, actually, he let me _borrow_ her, per say, and I thought it was high time I gave her back."

The laughter and ease on Harry Potter's face assured Draco that he wouldn't have to worry about that situation, though he was sure that Harry's love life had nothing to do with him. All bar the next hour and forty-nine minutes.

Draco slammed his drink back and decided that they'd wasted enough time talking as the hands on his watch clicked away time further.

"You done this before?" He wondered casually, placing his cup down next to Potter's and then sliding his hand into the football player's, admiring the restraint in himself.

"A few times, but I was thrilled to finally find a company as dependable as Kerrinton, I have only heard good things," Harry said, his grip pulling Draco into him, their fronts colliding.

Draco had no idea how he was still standing, and not erect at the very sight of Harry Potter nearly begging him to take him if _his_ reaction was anything to go by.

"Been a while though," Harry muttered, "We've been playing in Peru recently."

"I know," Draco said, immediately wishing he hadn't, "I mean-"

"You're a fan of football?" Harry filled in, his breath on Draco's neck due to the unfortunate height difference between them.

Draco did have to look down a bit to see the man, but his left hand easily felt the muscles on Potter's side and arse, and nothing could have compared to that moment, height be damned.

"You could say that," Draco squeezed, and the firm muscle beneath him was exactly what he needed. He really could have cared less about the white ball they all kicked around the field, trying to put into the net, he only cared about how the players looked while doing it.

One look into Harry's eyes, and Draco fell prey to the green of them, their niceness so much better than when he was broadcasting an interview on the telly. He fell in, ready to do his job, when their lips collided and Draco sent shivers down his own spine. Immediate passion flooded him as he pulled Potter close and ran his hands over his back, Harry's in his hair, seduction be damned. Draco had a routine, _he really did_ , for priming the client and then making sure he got the best out of their time together… this time it seemed he wasn't going to keep that restraint.

"What should I call you?" Harry rasped, his voice seeming thick when Draco started to nip his neck and yank him closer.

"Draco." There was nothing he would have wanted Harry Potter to call him other than his given name, yet by the laugh he knew that Potter didn't believe a lick of it.

His mother had given him that name to prove something to her husband, and while Draco was never quite sure what it was that they'd been fighting over, it didn't matter now. His father had been dead for a few years, and Draco was happy to keep it that way.

"All right, _Draco_ , I want everything you've got," Harry said, pulling his face up to look at him.

He could have melted, really.

"You sure about that?" Draco asked, pushing himself against a turned-on Harry, and wasn't he ecstatic to know that he, Draco, could do that to Harry bloody Potter, fastest runner football had seen since his father before him.

"Positive."

And Draco needn't be told twice.

The shirt Harry was wearing really took nothing, as it slid off in one swoop of practiced hands, Draco kissing Potter to within an inch of his life. Already their breathing was loud and obnoxious, but the good thing was, this wasn't a quiet call. He slid his tie from around his own neck, finding that what was in his briefcase fell short of what he truly needed right then, and scrunched it up in his fist, pushing his client against the plush bed awaiting them both.

The tanned sportsman was everything and more Draco had wanted, and as he pushed hard against the man, kisses going lower as he sunk further down, he felt satisfied in the groans that Potter emitted. It wasn't often he got this nice of a reaction this quickly out of a man.

The women had always been easy to rile up, but the men took Draco's entire routine… all except Harry, who was honestly not disappointing.

Draco took to the latch on Harry's trousers and had them off, but he did this action with a bit more restraint, wanting it burned into his mind for upcoming use. Draco wouldn't ever get another experience like this, and he wanted to happily intake the sight of those bare and tan legs, strong and bent for only himself.

Seeing as Kerrinton was the business it was, they did often have famous clientele that secured appointments with the utmost of privacy, Draco having bed and romanticized quite a few A-listers in his day. They all begged for privacy, paid extra, and some even had agreements signed by both parties, yet one encounter that stuck out in Draco's mind was the time the bodyguard had been present. He didn't mind much for an audience, hell, one with Harry Potter would have been fine, but Draco was glad this man was different. There wasn't even anyone stopping him from going to the twelfth floor.

He supposed the best way for someone like Potter to hide was in plain sight.

Yet, ever had he seen something less plain than an almost naked Harry Potter.

The sin of his tan-lines was even forgiven at the look of tight muscles and a readiness that Draco was more than happy to release from its confines.

Potter's underwear were nothing in Draco's wake of undressing him, and the small, teasing bites of kisses placed on those ethereal thighs only made Draco more satisfied from his revenant position.

For a moment, the thought of what an adoring fan must look like to Harry crossed Draco's mind, and he determined almost as quickly that he didn't want to be that fan, who'd finally gotten his hands on the goods. Besides, he had a job to do, which definitely included this man's dick in his mouth.

Wiping any smugness off his features, Draco pressed slow kisses back up, pushing Harry's hips down as he tried to buck and create any friction he could. The man in control laughed slightly, his lips now on Harry's stomach, then his neck, and finally back on his lips.

There was that shiver again, and boy was that everything Draco wanted in an interaction right there, it was only too bad he was being paid to even have this.

While he occupied the top, and eager, half of Harry Potter, Draco's hand floated down to where he was obviously being neglectant of, taking all of Harry in his hand and stroking, tantalising the poor football player below him.

While torture for them both, Draco was sure that this would be a much harder encounter for him than it would be for Harry. See, Harry didn't have to do the leaving when time was up and the day was at its end.

Feeling himself constricted in his own trousers, Draco shifted slightly, attempting not to show that he was indeed a human like the rest who found Harry Potter attractive, though by the sensual moans, he didn't think the sportsman cared.

Without much hesitation, Draco released Harry and grinned when that wick of disappointment passed over his eyebrows, but they didn't go without a kiss, and Harry's hands didn't go without being taken. Nestling right over the man's unattended erection, Draco took his tie and slipped it around Potter's wrists, the black and red material binding flawlessly together to create a strong hold with the headboard.

The sight alone was enough to have Draco off, but he again reminded himself this time was for Harry and sunk low again, his hands on his client's hips, pushing down as he prepared himself to have Harry Potter. Being rich and famous never at all meant coming equipped in the areas Draco felt it should, but the football player below Draco was one of those rare exceptions where it seemed he did not lack. His mouth was open wide to take in all of his client, and when he glanced up to see the look of pure need on Potter's face, Draco was more than thankful.

The moan which came next surprised him in its vibration, yet Draco lavished Potter with his tongue and lips, bestowing on him all the talent he'd amassed over his years of working for those hiring. He kissed and lapped, and by gods did he suck off Harry Potter.

Draco definitely put the experience on his top five list, if it didn't make number one.

Yet the guttural sound when the athlete came was more than enough to put the job above number one, and Draco happily let Harry make of it what he would when released from his warm erection and smiled.

Glancing at his watch in a bad form of habit, Draco saw how little time had gone by and hoped dauntingly that his next few words wouldn't scare off this man.

Draco placed a hot kiss on the tan stomach of Potter, then on his sternum, then right over his nipple where a slight tug went into that one, then onto his neck, his ear, and finally, with the slight lick of his tongue, Draco asked, "Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Please," the response was immediate, and Draco hadn't been ever more ready to do such a thing.

Usually, men would prefer he allow them the right to do with as they pleased, but Potter had never seemed like one to be directive, and how glad he was was to not be disappointed.

Draco kissed the man for good measure, wanting to linger there for more time than he was allowed, but found the enticing way Potter opened his legs to be more his focus.

He tried very hard not to notice the way Harry watched him unbutton his shirt, just shy of slipping the fabric off, then undo his belt-buckle, slipping his trousers off and most assuredly his pants. Draco tried very hard not to see how entirely ready Harry was for this, and the anticipation that he did not lack, in his damned green eyes watching him with just his shirt on, hanging off as it was. He tried very hard not to feel those emeralds watching him, and Draco tried as well not to feel inadequate. But when he did spare a glance upwords, he was sure that inadequate was not the word Harry would use to describe him at all. If the light wasn't fooling him when day turned to night, then he would have said attraction rested on Potter's face.

"Shit," Draco whispered when he realized something was obviously missing from their equation. He would have happily come prepared with lube if his boss hadn't decided to play coy with him instead.

"Need something?"

The knowing whisper came from Harry who had a grin on those damned lips of his, his green eyes directing Draco towards the drawer on the other side of the bed. Not that he could have reached it anyways, being tied up as he was, but it was far out of Potter's grasp.

"You do this that often?" Draco had to wonder as he moreover leaped beyond his client and snatched the contents of the drawer out, happily returning to his position before Potter's entrance.

"Only every other full moon," which for some reason made Draco laugh as he applied Potter's top brand of lube and had his wicked way with the athlete.

They went on for what felt like no time at all to Draco, but he overstayed the payment by an hour, and when Potter realized, he insisted that he pay for it, to which Draco couldn't have refused more profusely.

He kissed the man's pout, their ministrations leaving them both tangled in the bed when Draco had finally let him go from his bonds. Harry Potter had returned almost every favor bestowed upon himself to Draco, and they'd had the best time Draco himself could have imagined. It was, in fact, beyond what he ever would have thought the football player capable of.

When he was dressed in proper attire, and more than ready to leave- so he wouldn't be tempted to stay longer- Potter came up to him, money in hand, and just his pants resting over those hips that showed Draco's fingerprints all over them.

What a shame it wouldn't ever be him again.

"I can't let you leave without this," the athlete said warmly, looking sated.

"I almost can't let you give it to me," Draco whispered, taking his payment anyways, enjoying the feel of his cash reimbursement.

"Almost," Harry Potter laughed, looking dignified for having only one garment on.

Draco took one swift look at Potter, and figured he'd damn it all to hell. Nearly running, he reached out for the famous client and ran his hands through shagged, black hair, pressing his own pale lips to solid, tanned ones. Oh, how he reveled in the contact, and how for a moment, Harry was too stunned to do anything. Draco was even more enthralled by the way Potter thread his own hands through his blonde hair and tugged close, taking Draco's air for his own.

With a harsh break, and both men making terrible sounds of anguish, Draco pulled back and left the room without another glance back, his heart pounding as his mind drunk on the feeling Harry bloody Potter left with him that evening.

* * *

Draco got as far as two steps down the twelfth floor hall when Potter's door swung open, and he could only hope that it was because he'd forgotten something.

Draco was never that careless, however, and he knew that, so he had to hope Harry wasn't going to say or do anything stupid.

"Wait! Draco! You wanna go out with me?"

And, it was all ruined in that moment.

Of course, Draco would have loved to say yes, to go on ahead and merrily agree to drinks with one Harry Potter. He could see it properly, at the bar where he'd down a pint, and they'd hit off, and they would even come back for round two, no payments attached. He could practically feel Potter's ass again, but he would lose not only his job, but every ounce of reputation he had with it. Kerrinton would rip him to shreds, and the only way he'd find work was through private enterprising, which Draco had only done once and wouldn't ever try again.

He had to say no because Harry bloody Potter couldn't leave well enough alone.

Not that Draco wanted him to, but that was one of those damnable rules put in place to keep the boss from losing employees.

"Yes," he responded, turning back to look at Potter who was miraculously and immaculately dressed for someone he'd just walked out on.

"Great-"

"I _want_ to, but I can't." The clarification wiped that everlasting grin off of Potter's face, and guilt immediately swept over Draco like a tidal wave.

"Right…" He seemed to ruffle through a few options, looking squeamish, "Something about fraternization or what have you with people like me?"

It was almost as if Harry Potter was ashamed of who he was, the wonderful and fit football star that could run an entire field faster than two of his teammates combined. If anyone in that hallways should have felt out of place, Draco was the best candidate for the job.

"With any client," Draco hated the way he sounded, like he was some type of solid professional who didn't have to take his three piece off to get work done, "Doesn't matter if they're… you or not."

Looking more than unsure of himself, Harry stepped forward, hand reaching out as if to tame a rampant beast, which Draco supposed wasn't a too far-off analogy.

"I don't usually do things like this, but I _am_ Harry Potter… couldn't you bend your rule… just for me?" The man pleaded, those eyes and those bitten-red lips having the blonde quaking at his knees.

Draco had no idea where his resolve had gone when a sudden "Yes!" burst from his mouth, one of the most unattractive things he'd probably done in the entirety of his life.

"Great, come on then, I know a private bar just down the way, well, I know the owner, same difference," Harry Potter babbled, walking them back towards the room where he swiftly took Draco's case and chucked it on their disheveled bed.

The memory of only minutes ago still ached on Draco, as he wondered how on Earth Potter was standing upright after such a thorough encounter. The events wouldn't be leaving his mind anytime soon, even if the pain did fade, but now he would have nice memories to hold onto. An actual date with Harry Potter, and wasn't he the lucky one?

The date went better than either man could have wanted, especially when both of them fumbled back into a messy bed where Harry and Draco each took fulfilling their every wants and whims. Beyond ecstasy was the entire thing, and while he wasn't sure how long it would last, Draco couldn't have cared much at all. Dread only came in the form of the morning arriving, and with it more assignments, and the smell of Harry Potter fading away. It was the last thing he wanted, when slipping from the bed, placing back on his clothes from the eve prior, and snatching his suitcase, to walk out on his reserve, but surely Potter knew that it was coming, right? He couldn't keep a call boy forever, unless he _really_ wanted to pay well. Besides, if Draco had been seen last night, or if he was ever seen like that with Potter again, he'd be blacklisted before he could say bollocks.

Just when the blonde thought he'd made a silent exit away from the scene of the crime, shuffles came through like fireworks, and a crackly voice greeted him.

"Mornin' Draco."

Oh, how bloody lovely that was to hear in the fresh attunes of morning.

"I've got to go now," he rasped, the weakness in his own voice a disgusting and vile betrayer. He really was ready to leave, Draco swore it on his mother's heart.

"But I don't even know your real name."

For a moment, everything had been one wild, and true night of what Draco had thought was chemistry between two men. Gods, he felt the sparks and the cliche crap that the couples he knew went on about, and there was the way that everything was just easy with Potter, the way it had been _real_. For someone of such high standards, and for such a known face, Harry really knew how to act like a regular guy, his hair messy and his smile brighter than the lights which flashed in his eyes whenever the public caught sight. Draco had practically drank up the realness of it all the night prior, but it came crashing down then, as he'd always knew it would with the night.

The night was a lier, and that was possibly why he always enjoyed his work during the day. It was as real as it got, and there was no lying in the dark about what was happening. There was no dipping into darkened pub corners to grope and snog the other person. It was all real and bright during the day, and that was exactly what Draco had thought he'd possessed with Harry Potter.

 _Thought_.

Turns out it was just as false as the rest, for the golden athlete thought his name was a fake. Draco hadn't taken the time or effort the previous evening to point it out, but he'd thought Harry had known, had gotten to know the real Draco and all that he was, aside from his promiscuous occupancy. He was sadly mistaken.

"It's… it's _actually_ Draco."

It was a good thing neither set of eyes could connect, because one set was furiously ashamed, the other was so dragged down he didn't quite feel like himself.

"Of course, how bloody idiotic of me," Harry mumbled, the covers proving that he'd stood up now, walking towards Draco and placing himself in the blonde's line of sight.

Draco winced, it was all he could do. Daylight was doing its usual job, and yet in that moment he scorned the truth of it all. The bruises and red marks on Potter were so obvious, he'd have one hell of a time getting them off before his practice that upcoming week, yet that was another fact Draco had stored away in thinking this whole charade was real, that it could last.

What had he done?

"I've got to go to work," he mumbled, feeling more like a fool than before, all dressed while Harry stood bare and unabashed.

"I'm sorry if I did something- said something," the black haired man started, but Draco interceded with a sharp hand in the air.

"No, I'm sorry, I let things get too far, Mr. Potter, I hope you enjoyed your services from Kerrinton."

He refrained from adding, "Please call again," thought he most desperately wanted to.

"No, I don't-" Harry seemed to trip over his words, and feet, as Draco made his way out of the room, stepping over strewn clothes and shoes, "Wait! Dammit!"

"What do you want from me? I can't be anything for you, Potter, nothing healthy or real for gods' sakes. I'm not just someone you can pick from the scruff and start dating out of nowhere. Just imagine the horror of your fans when they find you've been snogging a bloody whore."

Harry looked awe-stricken at Draco's sudden use of harsh profanity, though they'd said much worse over the night. The directness of it, however, caught and gripped at both of their lungs.

"I don't care what they think anymore… I only care about the way I feel, and Draco, you can't tell me these past few hours haven't been… exhilarating," Potter breathed out, his words true and unguarded by pints or the shadows of the pub's booths that prior eve.

"But they've only been hours," Draco could hardly believe he was rationalizing with Harry Potter not to start a relationship together, "And I was for hire for two of them. Besides, you haven't even known my real name for _one_ apparently."

Harry looked frustrated but was persistent when he grabbed Draco's hand, and then his chin, and damn did he underestimate the true power in which the football player possessed.

"Well, Draco, let me make it up to you… as many times as you'll let me."

"How do you know I'm not dragging you on to spill this dirty little secret of yours, Potter?" He snapped, hoping to throw Harry off and get out alive. If not, he knew that Harry would destroy him, if anything. There would be nothing left of Draco if Harry Potter decided after two or three dates Draco _wasn't_ what he wanted, and he had nothing to his name, not even a job.

"Do it, I was planning on coming out after playoffs were over anyways," he said nonchalantly, "The world might not be ready for me to be openly gay, but I am."

Draco huffed like a small child who wouldn't get his way, stuck between a rock and a hard place. Maria would be head over tits at this one, but without much more thinking than he was capable of with a very enticing Potter before him, Draco agreed and kissed the man before him within an inch of his life.

* * *

The backlash from the boss that Draco got wasn't exactly nice, but three weeks into a whirlwind of a relationship with Harry Potter, and he probably couldn't have cared less. In fact, he didn't, and the press on Harry's arse, and his hands there as well, it seemed like all wasn't as bad as he made it out to be. Sleeping with only one person for a few weeks was definitely a new experience for Draco, he had to say, but it didn't stop him from enjoying the fact that his work wasn't exactly over. Harry Potter was almost insatiable, even more so when he made the front of the tabloids each day when he'd finally come out two weeks into their budding romance.

That was really when the boss had nailed into Draco, but being higher than cloud nine made everything pretty blurry regarding that specific conversation.

The best part about it all, was that Harry Potter never changed. He was the same bloke through and through, with his friends and in their bed, and Draco was enthralled at just how it was all possible. He trained, practiced, hung out with friends, and shagged like he'd been juggling it his entire life with ease.

Stunned was the proper term, but seeing the way Ron and Hermione treated Harry made everything a bit more clear. They couldn't care less who he was, or who he was dating, though the odd eye Draco had received from Ron once was more than enough to know they were watching closely, and both parties loved Harry senseless. It made sense that Hermione had agreed to date Harry, and man was Draco ever so thankful, seeing as it led him to where he was in that moment in time.

And they melded, and all was well for Draco and Harry, which surprised Draco every year they ended together. When the third one hit, and his surprise was dulled down, yet another shocker came into his life when the football star proposed, right in front of an entire stadium. He would have said no just to laugh it off if the only word he was capable of in the moment hadn't been yes. Though, it seemed that that was the only word Draco had ever been capable of before Harry; _yes_.


End file.
